Reading Proust at the Supermarket?

I see Marcel wandering about, swathed in his great coat and many scarves, totally taken with the amazing choices and total weirdness of the American supermarket. He is smiling, maybe even a bit jolly., not nonplused but rather interested. He is sniffing the coffee, and wondering why the tomatoes have no scent whatsoever. Is he processing an involuntary memory of Francoise's kitchen? Ah, the fragrant odors and the bustle.

http://geopolicraticus.wordpress.com/2009/03/14/your-friendly-neighborhood-supermarket/

The bustle at Trader Joe's is considerable. Would Proust drink "two-buck Chuck?" Who knows?

The other Odette

Involuntary Memory in Oregon

I, too, find that I buy less and less during travels, and cherish photos and memories more than ever.

When my youngest son was learning (or should I say trying to learn) the French Horn, he practiced a piece called "Variations." His older brother opined that most of the variations were involuntary.

Is involunary memory like that? My Significant Other is writing his memoir of growing up during World War II and especially the days at the end of the war when the Russian army invaded their town and fighting broke out. As he writes and researches the history of the period, more and more memories return. Like going to an old boarded up well and discovering clear potable water. And now the memories come, bringing forth even more memories. It's an amazing experience, even to watch. And there is also the difference in what he remembers and what a younger sister recalls.

I found this blog which mentions memory in Proust, and thought you should read it, too.

http://geopolicraticus.wordpress.com/2009/09/15/unintended-memories/

It was tempting to call the post, Reading Proust in Oregon

The Other Odette

Remembrance of Crimes Past

This blog received a citation as one of the 100 best blogs about mystery novels. While it is true that I write crime fiction and that I have another blog that frequently discusses writing and the writing life, Reading Proust in Foxborough is unrelated to mystery novels.

Nonetheless, not wishing to give offense, I put the little sticker at the bottom of the blog. Do you think the purveyor of best blogs believes Proust to be a mystery writer? Of course, in his way he is. There is a mystery at the heart of any novel. Are there crimes in the great work? Mostly the crimes careless people wreak upon one another, crimes of the heart, crimes of the ego. crimes of passion, if you will. What book does not contain those crimes?

Maybe someone thinks Foxborough is a prison, like Walpole, our neighboring town.

Remembrance of Crimes Past? I thought so.

Mystified. And a little pleased.

Odette, the other one

Life As Lived By Proust

This blogger has a fascinating take on Marcel's relationship with women, and I think he's right. Consider the Duchess de Guermantes.

http://blog.guterman.com/2009/09/15/on-observing-vs-living-life/

Onward If Not Upward

Last night at midnight, energized by the latest "Mad Men," and wanting to get to sleep, I picked up Proust.

I can tell that readerwise, Sodom and Gomorrah will be a lot more fun than The Guermantes Way.

Marcel is spying on Charlus and sees him flirting with the tailor Jupien. Marcel realizes that Charlus is gay and a new understanding and realizations cascade through his brain while he continues to watch the two, even sneaking through a passageway so he can overhear them. Bad Marcel! For this we waded through endless pages of boring receptions. Worth the wait!

Of course, at midnight, tired by a long week and the late hour, I only read a few pages. Proust is not an "I sat down at six and didn't stop reading until I closed the book" kind of thriller. No indeedy. One savours Proust. And that little sneak Marcel. What a revelation.

Onward.

The other Odette

OMG! Someone has actually SUMMARIZED Proust!

http://bush-tetra.livejournal.com/2653.html

It was Walter Benjamin. Who knew? Someone must immediately notify the All England Summarize Proust Society.

Odette, feeling frisky

Reading Proust Practically Everywhere

We must all have returned from our various "Balbecs" and are flexing literary muscles, unused after the summer beach reads.

Here are some fearless Proust readers with literary blogs:

http://www.litkicks.com/

http://pagesturned.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-books.html

Time to get going on volume 2. After all, I survived (barely) all those receptions and dinner parties at the Guermantes.

Paintings in Proust

A blogger with interesting thoughts about painting in Proust. I often try to figure out who "Elstir" was. He had to be one of the painters contemporary to Proust, just as Saens-Saens was likely a stand in for Vintieul. I think I have found the "petite phrase" in one of the violin/piano concertos.

http://proustreader.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/paintings-in-proust/

It would be so nice to have time to pursue all these tracks, but daily responsibilities tie me down. Maybe take an Elstir/Vintieul week and just pursue the threads? Lovely.

I wonder if the blogger knows about the book, Paintings in Proust by Eric Karpeles"?

The other Odette

Reading Proust in Paris

This blog is worth its weight in madelines if for no other reason that it helps me find interesting writing, people, other blogs, and one thing always leads to another. Serendipity, that' s what it is.

Here is a blogger reading Proust in Paris and even trying to write like Proust, a challenging experiment.

I would need a long piece of cord or string to find my way back to the subject of my sentence. How many parenthetical phrases can one string together? I noticed Proust's dialogue is stuck in the middle of the paragraph with no quote marks or any of those little grammatical tags that help the reader. You're on your own with Proust.

Read on down into the blog to find some fascinating discussions of writing, and also several beginnings of what has to become a wonderful novel. Yowza!

http://literarylab.blogspot.com/2009/09/lexperience.html

Sometimes it seems that all the bookstores are closing. In New York City there will be one less place to purchase Proust in the original French. So sad.
http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/02/longlived-french-bookstore-in-rockefeller-center-to-close/

Reading Proust on the Train

Reading Proust on the train enabled a young woman to find a literary agent. No wonder I've had no luck in that regard. I read Proust in bed late at night.

I began volume two, but only read a page before drifting off. It will be another long slog until Time Regained, my absolute favorite of all Proust's work.

http://www.27east.com/story_detail.cfm?id=231144&town=Hampton%20Bays&n=Local%20author%20to%20read%20excerpts%20from%20latest%20novel%20at%20Sag%20Harbor%20bookstore

Maybe you should read Proust on the train.

Odeette

New England Reads Proust

An alert reader sent information about a Proust reading group at the Boston Athenaeum (private library) and a group of women in Connecticut have formed their own Proust-reading group. This rocks! Is it a movement?


http://womenreadingproust.blogspot.com/2009/08/mon-dieu-someone-has-read-all-7-volumes.html

I took Volume II off the shelf. It looks mouse-chewed and terribly worn, and I notice there's a price of $2.00 on the inside cover. Obviously from college days. Scott Montcrieff translation and hard cover. Avanti!

The other Odette

A Respite from Proust

Having finished (enfin) The Guermantes Way, I'm taking a break and finishing some other books languishing on my nightstand. One is Three Trapped Tigers, a cool book about Havana in the 50's right before Castro came to power. I'm almost through A Bright and Guilty Place, a non-fictional account of Los Angeles in the late 20's and early 30's. Corruption to the max.
Very interesting. I'm in the middle of Elmore Leonard's book of short stories, When the Women Come Out to Dance. Isn't that a great title.? Great stories, too. Anyone for baked possum?
I just finished Red Leaves, by Thomas Cook, a novel that will break your heart. I recall a few years ago when the novel was up for an Edgar Award.

Summer is the time for reading, although none of these books could be considered "beach reads." My novel is process now has 65,000 words and starts to look like a real book. I've been at it for a year. Had I been dedicated, I would have finished, but I'm also trying to find agents/publishers for three other novels, so that takes a toll of "free time," as well as all my writing groups and organizations.

It's a full life, Charlie. Who said that? No idea.

Let us imagine Marcel on the beach at Balbec, or in the dining room with his grandmother, or in town with the young girls in flower, or maybe even in Elstir's studio. Long ago, I recall resort hotels like the one in Balbec. One's bottle of wine and bottle of water on the table from previous meals, even one's napkin. Personally, I like a fresh napkin rather often. The same waiter, and pretty soon he knows one's likes and dislikes. Has that way of life vanished? I rather think so.

Everything very proper and even stylized. Last Year at Marienbad and all that jazz. We saw Mr Hulot's Holiday, which ages so well and had that same seaside flavor. I liked it ever so much, even the umpteenth time.

Onward,

Odette

At Long Last, Fini

I did it! Last night during the rain delay of the Red Sox game against Detroit, I finished The Guermantes Way, finally arriving at the scene where a dying Swann appears and the Guermantes pooh-pooh his problems and fixate on their evening plans. The Duchess, Oriane, runs back inside for the red shoes that will match her dress. The Duc, Basin, is such an upper class twit, and the entire scene is priceless, even worth the endless slog of hundreds of pages through the boring parties and receptions and upper class snobbery.

Proust really knows how to end a scene. I loved it. Now onward to the second volume. I have an ancient (ancien) copy in two volumes. It took me forever to get through the Guermantes. I wavered. I procrastinated. I read two pages per week. I became a Proust slacker. No more.

Of course, posting to the blog has been difficult with so little progress through the great novel.

August 11 is the great turnaround. Enfin!

Delirious with accomplishment,

Odette

Proust would approve

I am so close to the end of the Guermantes book, that I can almost taste it, smell it, definitely feel it. This week for sure I will finish. So long a slog. I could have walked across Spain in the time it has taken to read it. In the summer. Taking two seasons.

Speaking of smelled it, here is the story of a blogger who lost and regained her sense of smell. And the first smell that came back was . . . . but I'll let her tell her Proustian tale of smell regained. Thanks to an alert reader for the link

http://mollysmadeleine.blogspot.com/2005/12/unexpected-scent-of-chocolate.html

Thanks to one of my readers for the alert.

We were in Nantucket this week, an island I have visited since my youngest was in diapers. The island has changed and not changed, but the sunlight, the fog, the sweet smell of privet will always remind me where I am. The ferry coming back encountered "ocean swells," but not rough enough for a "Nantucket sleight ride." Google this phrase. It is Melvillian.

It's not at all like Balbec, but there are girls on bicycles and girls walking and money in the air and old boarding houses and restaurants and even artists who have been there since God was a boy. I think that in the old days, Proust would have felt at home there. No grand hotels, but a few classy resorts. Not a European experience, and not even an American experience, but the quintessential New England experience.

The other Odette